


The First Rain

by lunaseemoony



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-Episode: s02e13 Doomsday, Rain, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 19:04:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5837386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaseemoony/pseuds/lunaseemoony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first rain came the day after she’d successfully managed to go a whole 24 hours without tearing up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Rain

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on uploading fics from tumblr to complete collections.

The first rain came the day after she’d successfully managed to go a whole 24 hours without tearing up. It had only been a week, give or take a few days. Adjusting to normal time again hit her hard. Not that it mattered, she slept when she wanted to. They took turns making certain she ate at least once a day. 

Thus far the weather had been resplendent, free of clouds and the bitter cold of the first day that had snatched her away from her home (him). Not that she noticed it much. Stepping outside or looking out a window was akin to an admission that the blue sky truly wasn’t hers. 

The first rain invited itself in gently, tapping and knocking at her curtained windows. Tap tap tap, pitter patter, tap tap tap. She slunk out of bed only to confirm that yes, it was indeed raining. Just as she reached the bay window the sky opened up and released all of the grief that she couldn’t because her eyes were a pair of dry, angry sores. 

Even the rolling thunder was kind and alluring with its grumbling growls against her roof. Her chest filled with just a hint of moldy air, and it was all she needed to find herself dashing outside. Nobody paid her any mind, because it couldn’t be her. She hadn’t been out of her bedroom (not that she was ready to call it that) since they’d arrived. 

She only needed to be a few steps out onto the garden. The grey skies opened up into a downpour, showering her face and returning to her all of the grief that she had shed in the agonizingly long week. She cast her gaze up at the sky, searching desperately for the origin of the rain, refusing to believe that it had come from the clouds that appeared out of nowhere. 

She knew. Oh, she knew. Every drop was hers, whether it fell on her face or crashed to the ground below her aching feet. The angry thunder was hers, hanging low in her chest until it bolted up to her fists raised in the air. The crash of lightning, that was _theirs_. Not hers and his, but _theirs_. 

Why? It came like a flash, unexpected aside from the foreboding thunder. With him, they were the little tree, flourishing and blooming until suddenly the crash of lightning hit them and severed them, right down the middle. They were burned, she still singed. 

Every rain henceforth was hers, even long after she built up a gentle immunity to her fits of tears. She refused to use an umbrella, because the rain and storms were hers. She couldn’t be harmed, they were her strength. With every failure to find her own sky she had the reminder of the next thunderstorm to urge her forward, to find her own sky, where she would have someone to stand under an umbrella with.


End file.
